


my routine with you

by AlasPoorAndy



Category: Bandom, The Who
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Underage Drug Use, Vomiting, little gay babies, teen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:25:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6502366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlasPoorAndy/pseuds/AlasPoorAndy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sixteen year old pete gets kicked out of his mother's house, again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my routine with you

**Author's Note:**

> ha! sometimes i can write more serious, not-crack fic!

For the second time that month, Pete had come home at midnight, high on amphetamines, and fought with his mother. For the second time that month, his mother hit him upside the head and tossed him out the front door. She warned that if there was a third time, he’d be out of the house for good. Pete shouted back that he didn’t want to live there anymore, anyways. For the second time that month, his own mother slammed the door in his face, and left Pete shivering out in the cold.

He was only upset that he had left the party early, because he thought he could sneak back inside without waking his mother. He got his hours mixed up and tiptoed in while she was busy watching her late night television programmes and was caught red-handed. 

It was a damn good party, too. One of his mate’s older brothers, who was already in uni and living on his own, let them have a party there. The liquor and drugs flowed freely, and Pete had vague memories of trying to take one pill of every colour of the rainbow before the night was over. 

So, he was a little fucked. His vision was very narrow and he had trouble deciding where to walk, his thoughts getting muddled very easily. He walked down to the end of his street, hands stuffed in his pockets as he muttered angrily to himself.

Where else could he go? He used the last of his change taking the bus home from the party. He didn’t have money to buy food and sit in a restaurant somewhere.  
He decided that he’d try and see what John was up to. John hated being woken up in the middle of the night like that, but surely he’d forgive Pete this time. 

It took him awhile to remember where John lived and figure out where to walk. He got mixed up a few times, and the letters on the street signs kept dancing around before he could read them. He relied solely on his memory to make the right turns and crossings. Sometimes he got a little paranoid that his mother was following him, or that his neighbours watched from their windows, so he walked as quickly as he could.

Once he found John’s street, he remembered where to go. He thought it would be a good idea to tiptoe down the sidewalk so he wouldn’t wake anyone. Pete was proud of himself for being so considerate.

He crossed the lawn of John’s grandparents’ house, where he and his mother lived. Pete unlatched the gate and walked to the side of the house and stopped under John’s bedroom window. The light was off already. What time was it?

“John!” Pete whispered-shouted. He tried to be a little louder. “John!”

Pete bent over to take off his shoe, stumbling a little. He straightened back up and tried to throw his shoe at John’s window, but wildly missed his target. He hit the brick wall feet away from John’s room.

“Fuck!” Pete groaned, forgetting to be quiet. “John, wake up, you lazy bastard!”

A moment later, a light turned on from behind John’s curtain, and the fabric was pushed aside. John unlatched the window and pulled it up. He stuck his head out the window.   
“Pete? What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry John, you’re not a lazy bastard, please forgive me,” Pete pleaded. “Can I come up?”

“Fuck you,” John whispered back. “Meet me at the front door.”

Pete hurried over to the front door, his socked foot accidentally stepping in the mud of his grandmother’s garden. Oh well, it’ll dry.

John silently unlatched the door for his friend, ushering him in quickly. They were both as quiet as possible, talking under their breaths.

John looked grouchy as a stubborn ox, angry that his sleep was interrupted. His hair stuck up in little tufts everywhere, and he was wearing terribly childish pyjamas, where the button up shirt and trousers matched. Pete thought he looked adorable, and smiled.

“What are you grinning at? What’s going on?” John interrogated him, like a scorned wife. “Are you high? Where’s your other shoe?”

“Sorry,” was all Pete could whisper back. There were too many questions at once.

John squinted at him in the dark. “Fuck, Pete, how many pills did you take? You look really shitty.”

“Sorry,” Pete said again. “I had some blues, and a red one, and an orange one…”

John cut him off and pointed at the guest bathroom behind the staircase. “Pete.”

“Oh, c’mon, John, don’t make me,” Pete pleaded.

“If you keep stumbling into my house drunk and high as a kite, you’re going to have to deal with me taking care of you because you can’t take care of yourself,” John whisper-yelled at him. There was something in his voice that Pete couldn’t quite understand. But John did have a point. He was embarrassed at how routine this was becoming.

Pete hung his head and marched off to the bathroom. John followed and shut the wooden bathroom door behind them. John crossed his arms and guarded the door, watching like a hawk. Pete knelt down in front of the toilet and, with a defeated sigh, stuck two fingers down his throat. He wretched a few times before actually puking, forcing all the trash he had in his stomach to empty out before he got worse. 

He felt miserable but was still dizzyingly high. He flushed and stood up slowly. John continued staring him down disapprovingly, but softened up as he filled a cup with tap water and handed it to Pete. “Rinse.”

Pete did as he was told, rinsing his mouth a few times. He turned the taps back on and splashed cold water on his face. 

“You need to start taking it easy, mate,” John did that worried sigh that seemed to be reserved just for Pete. He placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, but then removed it awkwardly for a reason Pete didn’t understand either. “I’ll always be around to help you, but you’re gonna get real sick if you don’t take care of yourself.”

“Yes, Doctor John,” Pete teased as he dabbed his face dry with a towel.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” John instructed with a yawn. This was, in fact, becoming too routine of an occurrence. Most of the time Pete lied to his mother and said he was staying at John’s for the night but usually ended up passed out on a stranger’s couch somewhere across town. Pete was only recently actually getting caught and kicked out, where he wound up coming to John for help. This meant Pete was getting sloppier, which made John worry about Pete more than usual.

They tiptoed up the stairs, careful not to wake John’s grandparents or his mother. They shut the door to John’s bedroom behind them, but luckily it was at the end of the hall near the bathroom and linen closet, so they at least had the liberty to talk quietly instead of whispering.

John kicked off his slippers, and noticed Pete was literally vibrating with energy and nervous shivers. John went into his closet to pull out a sweater for Pete, because he usually got cold sweats the morning after when coming down from an intense high. 

Pete took off his jacket and his t-shirt, accepting the warm woollen sweater from John. He hesitated for a moment before putting it on. It was the sweater John usually let him borrow, because his grandmother knit it for him last year, but it was already too small on John. He looked over at John in his pyjamas. His friend was on the thicker side, but it suited him. At least John’s arms and chest were muscular to balance everything out.

On the other hand, John looked at shirtless Pete and frowned. “Christ, Pete. I swear you’re skinnier than the last time I saw you.”

Pete looked down at his chest and stomach. He had always been lanky since puberty. He was waiting to fill out a little. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

John reached forward and brushed two fingers across the bottom of Pete’s ribcage. “Look, I can see your ribs. Do I need to start bringing you lunches to school again?”

Pete looked away. “Oh, come on, John.”

John cracked a grin. “Alright, from now on, you’re eating a peanut butter sandwich and a carton of milk every day for lunch. That should make you look less like a skeleton and more like a boy.”

Pete grinned back. “Piss off.” He slipped the sweater on over his head. The wool was softer after being worn out and washed so much. 

“Oh, wait, I meant to show you something,” John quickly turned back to his closet, kneeling down to look through some shoeboxes on the floor. Pete smiled and sat down at John’s desk chair. His brain felt like it was full of marbles rolling around, but he felt safe and comfortable in John’s room most of all.

John came back with a magazine, flipping it open to a dog-eared page and showing Pete. “Look. My grandfather got it for me at the train station.”

“Duane Eddy? No way,” Pete grinned. There was a nice glossy photo of the handsome guitar player and an article about him on the next page. The words were still dancing around so Pete focused on the photo instead. “He looks real good in that picture.”

“Yeah, doesn’t he?” John bit his bottom him thoughtfully. “Erm, on the next page, he talks about his technique on his last record, it’s real neat.”

“Can you read it to me tomorrow morning?” Pete asked him. “Words aren’t making a lot of sense right now.”

John gave him a tired smile. “Yeah, of course. Let’s go to bed, eh? You’re going to go home bright and early tomorrow morning and apologize to your mother before she goes to work.”

Pete didn’t protest. John always knew a lot better than him.

The two boys climbed into John’s small twin bed, settling under the covers. John reached over to turn off his bedside lamp, and the room went dark. There was only the blue-ish moonlight coming in through John’s curtains.

Pete looked over at John, who was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. He had something he needed to say, but it kept slipping from his mind, like a little piece of paper caught in a summer storm. John noticed him staring, and looked over at Pete. “What?”

Pete squinted. “Wait.” He reached over and placed his hand on John’s face.

“What? Stop that,” John tried to brush his hand off.

“Where’s your mouth?” Pete asked, touching John’s face.

“Pete, what the hell,” John swatted his hand, laughing. Pete traced his moving lips with a delicate index finger. He cupped the sides of John’s face and moved in, pressing their lips together.

John held him for one second, two seconds, three seconds before pushing Pete’s thin body away.

“Pete,” John stammered. “I don’t think you know what…what you’re doing. You’re high.”

“I’m—“ Pete started, but gave up instead of explaining. “You’re right.”

They both stayed frozen. John was giving him a look Pete didn’t understand.

“Um,” Pete whispered.

“It’s okay, I forgive you,” John said, and that’s exactly why Pete liked him. 

“Can you…?” Pete asked hesitantly, unsure of how much trouble he was in after that.

“Yeah, yeah. Turn around,” John told him. “We do have a routine, after all.”

Pete turned onto his other side. John stroked Pete’s shaggy hair for a little bit, and then rubbed his bony back in small circles, just like Pete liked. 

Pete closed his eyes, finally relaxing. He felt himself starting to come down from his high, and he was coming down in his favourite place in the world, which always made the next morning a bit better. 

After a while, John moved in closer behind Pete and shyly placed his hand on Pete’s hip. Pete didn’t mind, which was a relief. Then again, Pete did just kiss him. John wished he had been more prepared for that.

John moved in close enough so his nose brushed Pete’s back, but that’s as close as he let himself go. John waited until Pete’s breathing became regular and he knew his friend was asleep. Only then did John let himself relax and go back to sleep, too.


End file.
